WarioWare: Painful Moves
by Madhog thy Master
Summary: Here's something that someone has probably been waiting for, but still didn't know it... Give it a try and you may lose your sanity. Reckless humor and random videogame references are guaranteed. All your base are belong to us. SHUT UP!
1. Sam & Max Hit All Your Base

**WARIOWARE:**

**PAINFUL MOVES**

* * *

**1.**

**Sam & Max hit the "All Your Base" Reference**

* * *

It was an awfully normal and boring sunny day in the highly anime-like stereotypical city of Diamond. Closed in his rather dark room, a lonely figure (who vaguely resembled an insane parody of Bugs Bunny) was trying to beat an old PC videogame. This odd looking wonder had white fur and long fluffy rabbit ears, he could have actually looked cute… If it wasn't for that disfiguring, insane grin eternally printed on his round head. For reasons that will inevitably cause a rather annoying damage to the already weak resilience of the Forth Wall… The game he was playing had himself and his best friend as protagonist.

As if on cue, a taller dog-like being (who resembled an even crazier mix between Humphrey Bogart and the anti-crime dog, McGruff) entered the rabbity thing's room, clearly in panic.

"Max, what are you doing!? Don't you realize that breaking the not-surprisingly weak resilience of the Forth Wall this early in the narration will make the reader acknowledge this story's sadly obvious lack of a plot and immediately stop reading it, then he would tell his on-line pimpled geek friends not to read it as well and in about 5 minutes everyone would inevitably give to it the infamous 'Worst Episode Ever' boll… Causing the very fabric of time and space themselves to collapse into a disfiguring, apocalyptic demise of terror and pain!"

The lagomorph slowly turned his huge head over his frantic friend.

"Sorry? Did you say something, Sam?"

"Nothing important, really. Since it's been a while from the latest unjustified national crisis, I just needed to make one myself… I feel relieved now." Replied the detective dressed canine.

Suddenly, the phone rang.

"I GOT IT!!" Yelled Max, who immediately darted from his seat at lighting speed.

"I GOT IT!!" Yelled Sam, who grabbed the flying rodent in midair and launched him outside the window as a random Godlike voice cried: "Player 1, defeated!"

With the confidence of a pink goofball warrior who's about to inhale his multiple enemies and copy their own abilities, Sam answered the phone.

"Hello? Ah, commissioner! Yes? Noooo… Really? When? What you say? Can I make my time? WHAT!? Sexy armored space hunting ladies turning into steel balls and squashing everything on their path!!! We're on the case!" Then he hanged up. In the meantime, Max managed to gain a 1-up, therefore he didn't die.

"What's the matter, Sam?" Asked the eager lagomorph, already savoring the idea of creating senseless violence and wanton destruction over unsuspecting criminals… And cute looking kittens.

"It seems that there are gruesome troubles at the famous WarioWare, Inc. little buddy. I still don't know all the details but, for some illogical reasons, I can already tell that this is going to be our most difficult case yet!" He said while assuming an exaggeratedly serious stance.

"What is it? Parking tickets? Taxes? Impending nuclear holocaust? Donald Trump's hair going crazy and killing everybody, again?" He inquired, bouncing like an enthusiastic geeky boy with his brand new Game & Watch. Sam was still dead serious.

"No, little buddy… This time we've got our paws foiled with the most barbaric, ferocious and sadistic form of uncivilized racket this world has ever seen…" He took a deep breath and finally added: "THE VIDEOGAME INDUSTRY!!!"

As soon as he said that, Max began to sing a rather loud Latin theme as if possessed by some unspecified evil… From an RPG.

**"**_**Estuans interius  
Ira vehementi  
Estuans interius  
Ira vehementi…"**_

"Ehi Max, snap out of it!" Yelled the frustrated McGruff cosplayer, bothered by such uncalled for reference.

"Oh yeah… Just a moment of weakness. Shall we go? Perhaps I can finally get the chance to made my own game about reckless driving over innocent pedestrians…"

"Sorry little buddy, that game has been already made."

"Darn! They stole my idea! Just like those stupid Japanese fighters with those stupid names and their stupid fatal moves…"

"Get over it, Max… That Scorpion guy isn't going to pay your copyrights for that fatality. We've better move, now. Hold the fort during our absence, R.O.B.!"

The ever so efficient little robot nodded in response… Right before exploding into smithereens for absolutely no reason.

"Whoops… Guess we'll have to rely on Wall-E, again." Added Sam. And with that said, the two most efficient (and, luckily, only) freelance police officers in the whole rotten world, exited their office at ludicrous speed, took their loyal Desoto and drove away… Batman's theme song played all the time. Only a few pedestrians were rolled during their reckless driving… Little kittens were spared.

* * *

"Well, here we are, Max. The ominous and deadly dungeon of madness better known as the WarioWare, Inc." The dog stated proudly.

"What do they exactly produce, by the way?" Asked the ever so "knowledge hungered" little lagomorph freak that used to be his best buddy.

"A scornful amount of pitiful and brainwashing micro games for those kind of people who could not afford to buy real videogames. Let's enter."

A rather epic theme began to play as they approached the entrance of the aforementioned dungeon. After avoiding any sort of deadly trap and killing random spider-like creatures, the two finally managed to reach the Boss's room… Unfortunately, they didn't have the Big Key for it.

"Holy Triforce of mystical awfully vague power!!! This seems to be a dead end!" Exclaimed Sam, in his usual random way.

"What are we gonna do, Sam?"

He thought of it for a second, then he said:

"Use your head, little buddy!"

"Okey Dokey!"

Max did and the door was shattered like the hopes of an "American Idol" reject.

"Well done. I knew your reckless ability of taking suggestions literally would come in handy, someday."

"No prob. Ehi, can you please remove the giant wood splinters from my skull?"

When the two "balanced defenders of justice and civil rights" entered the room, they were greeted by a preposterous (yet appropriate) number of old fashioned "join the army"-like posters with the unmistakable face of the company's leader painted on it…

There were plenty of them. Some had him dressed like a U.S. president, saying: "If you're not with me, you're ass is mine!" And someone else with him dressed like Uncle Sam with the peculiar slogan: "I want YOUR money!" Another one was showing a half robotizied version of him that was saying: "All your money are belong to us." Sam didn't know what was creepier, the arrogant obviousness of the evil propaganda… Or the awful grammar.

Sat on his typical villain-like chair, stood the Main Man himself, the feared and worshipped as a God leader of Diamond City's most beloved (and only) videogame company… Wario!

He was a rather small man with severe dieting problems, he wore the typical biker outfit that said: "Look at me, I'm a total badass!" He had thick dented mustache and a big red nose… And, by the look of his diabolical gaze, one could tell he was just about to feast upon some innocent's flesh and eagerly devour his soul… Yes, he was your average business man. His malicious eyes fixed themselves over the pair of newcomers and his superior intellect immediately understood who those two were.

"You musta be Tom Nook's goons… Well, ya can tell to det little twerp that I ain't gonna pay!" He yelled, threatening them with a pump-action shotgun.

"Ehrrr… No. Actually, we're Sam and Max, freelance police!" Said Sam, showing his prized police badge he bought at a convenient store. Max did as well. Wario realized his mistake and put the gun away.

"Oh yeah! You're the new cabbies!"

"The what?" Both dog and rabbity thing replied in chorus.

"Ya see… Our official anthropomorphic animal-like company drivers got some… Parasite problem."

"Fleas?" Inquired Sam.

"Pikmins." Fast answered Wario.

"Ooooh…"

"So I was in need of a couple of substitute chauffer that would take Mr Shigeru Miyamoto at the airport and my good friend, the commissioner, suggested you!"

At this, Sam got excited.

"Wow, Shigeru Miyamoto! The videogame God himself! The one who's coming to this world was foretold by Nostradamus himself! The one who's own shadow could eclipse the sunlight! The one who's…"

"Did he create God of War?" Said Max, interrupting his friend's ear-tearing rant.

"No, but he invented a game in which a fat jumping plumber has to save a random princess from a giant, barrel throwing, gorilla…"

Max made a face… Which was quite the picture since he usually had only one facial expression. Sam cleared his voice and gladly accepted the job.

"Aaaah, excellent. May I present you to the rest of the crew?" Wario said right before screaming like a broken siren: "MOOOOOOONAAAAAAAA!!!"

The assumed owner of the aforementioned (or should I say, aforeyelled) name, appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She was a tall and attractive woman with long brown hair, strangely enough her attire resembled the one of a cheerleader… Who just worked as a pizza house employee no more than a few seconds earlier.

"What is it, Wario? I'm late for my fifteenth daily part-time job!" She said while trying to wear a disturbingly pink custom that resembled a platypus… Of all animals. "Buy the Monaboro, the only cigarettes that even a platypus would smoke!" She randomly stated no one in particular.

The two former freelance police officers, now freelance cabbies, were a little taken aback by this scene… To say the very least. Their stinky employer, on the other hand, just rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever… Since I just finished eating my fried garlic with bean sauce based breakfast, I'm gonna spend the next few hours farting the hell out of my regal butt… Therefore you're gonna take these two rookies and show 'em how things work in dis side of the trucks."

Mona gave them a very good look. They greeted her rather stupidly. She sighed and nodded to her boss, while trying to wear a clown's nose… No one had the guts to ask what it was for.

"Okay guys, follow me… And take this homage." She sweetly remarked while giving them a 20% off coupon for a dinner at Mona Pizza. The two of them just nodded and pretended to be somewhere else.

As the trio exited the room, the WarioWare, Inc. chairman and owner began his ecosystem killing fart concerto.

"Aaaah, it's-a good ta be a boss." He proudly stated. A red energy bar with a generic skull at its end appeared right above his head. "Not THAT kind of boss, you idiot!"

Someone set up us the bombs… The stinky ones.


	2. Sam's Bad Fur Day Afternoon

**2.**

**Sam's Bad Fur Day Afternoon.**

A rather gruesome sight welcomed the improvised chauffer drivers as they encountered a preoccupying amount of nutjobs on their way.

A couple of ninja girls were struggling with each other over a rare copy of "Ninja Gayden", eeeerrrrr, I mean "Gaiden".

"That's not even funny."

Shut up, Max! Anyway… Behind them, another couple of people (if you would go so far to consider them human), specifically, a couple of excessively nerdy freaks, was busy playing "Super Smash Bros." for the N64.

"Ehi Sam, why weren't we in "Brawl", anyway? That blue pinhead was!"

"Well, Max… How can I say this kindly… We're not famous enough." At Sam's straight words, Max deformed grin frowned faster than a Star Trek fan in a Star Wars convention. "… But don't lose your typical, obnoxious and potentially genocidal spirit, little buddy… If we manage to get a little bit more popular, then in just a few short decades we'll may be able to appear in a SSB game as… Useless bonus stick."

"YAY!" Yelled Max, NOT is sarcasm...

"5 years of Saturday Night Live therapy, completely wasted…" Muttered the dog.

As they proceeded, they also met a crazed science weirdo, a karaoke robot, a dancing son of the 70's with a giant afro, a martial arts master and his overly eager apprentice…

"In other words, the kind of people you would except to find in… THE VIDEOGAME INDUSTRY!!!"

**"**_**Estuans interius  
Ira vehementi  
Estuans interius  
Ira vehementi…"**_

"Cut it out, Max! That joke has gotten old fast."

"Sorry… I'm a fool! Ehi, can I borrow the Buster Sword for inflicting gory punishment to my multiple enemies?"

"Only if you can stand RPG fights."

"I'll pass then…"

"What are you two blabbering about?" The sudden voice of their multi-tasks taker guide, Mona, abruptly interrupted another one of their pointless dialogues. "Whatever… Here's your nametags, wear it proudly and they won't suck your soul… Maybe." She said, while giving them a couple of tags… The horror! Predictable complains didn't late to arrive.

"Ehi, my name is not Sam Aran!!" Protested Sam to an already distracted cheerleader / mascot / waiter / insert a job here, girl. Max, on the other hand, was quite pleased with his nametag.

"Cool… I'm Max Payne!!! Sam, I want you to call me like that, from now on."

"I will roll you under the Desoto before that would ever happen." Sam answered calmly.

"Thank you!"

"Just duty, little buddy… And fun too."

"Have you two finished? We couldn't afford better tags in such little time so get used to it… Now, will you please GET THE FREAKING CAR AND GO THE AIRPORT!!!? We don't want to displease Mr Miyamoto." At this, Sam got excited once again, like a puppy on a hydrant.

"Shigeru Miyamoto! The one who's face could be seen on Mars, the one who single handedly defeated 1.000.000 Koopa with just a wave of his hand, the one… I'll shut up, now."

"Good… Now GO!!!"

"Ehi Sam, can I drive?"

"For the sake of every living being on Earth… No!" He hastily answered.

"Awwww…"

* * *

The limousine was fancy and classy… Too bad it was destroyed after the first two meters of road by a random flying cow fallen from the sky. For that reason, the two anthropomorphic freaks had to get their loyal, random falling cow proof, Desoto, for their assigned task… A simple, easy task with no obstacles whatsoever… If you don't count that living giant pile of excrement that was blocking their way.

"Holy mother of all obscene puns!! The unmistakable giant form of a living, breathing piece of you-know-what is blocking our way!" Cried Sam, who, for the sake of all living things, was driving the car.

"Shall we turn that stinky turd into liquefied poop, Sam?" The Max of Pain, eagerly asked.

"Can't think of a reason not to…" As soon as Sam said that, the almighty mount poop, opened its large mouth and began… To sing!?

* * *

_**I am the great mighty poo  
and I'm going to throw my shit at you  
a huge supply of tish  
come from my chocolate star fish  
how about some scat you little twats.**_

* * *

"That's… Horrible!"

"The song is pretty catchy, though."

"What are gonna do, Sam? I'm too cute and sellable to end up buried in poo!"

"Well… If this was your average videogame parody, then we would have probably had to launch several sets of paper sheet into its large mouth for a while… Unfortunately, this is NOT that kind of parody… So, instead of running away for our life, we're going to do some… Micro games!" Needless to say, Max frowned like the unlucky reader of a fanfiction. "Hold your Form Baton, Max!" Sam yelled.

"You mean this Wii Remote?"

"Just do it… And follow the instructions!"

An ancient piece of paper appeared out of nowhere. Written on it, were the instructions of what position the Baton had to be put in for the following short challenges:

"_**The Remote Control: Hold the Form Baton in your hand like a TV remote. This fancy position is based upon one of the most famous, and fiercest, sports… Channel Surfing."**_

"Ok little buddy, you heard God's voice talking through a piece of paper, now do what he said!" And thus, the games began:

* * *

Salute! Done.

Pick from the nose! Done.

Kick the ball! Done.

* * *

_**D**__**o you really think you'll survive in here  
you don't seem to know which creek your in  
sweet corn is the only thing that makes it through my rear  
how'd you think i keep this lovely grin(ting)  
(have some more caviar).**_

"We're doing good, Max, keep it going!!"

* * *

Shoot the puppy! Done.

Cheat the taxes! Done.

Avoid jail! Done by some miracle.

* * *

_**N**__**ow I'm getting rather mad  
you're like a niggly tiggly shitty little tag nut  
when I'll knock you out with all my bab  
I'm going to take your head and ram it up my butt**_

"Your butt?"

_**Yes my butt**_

"Your butt???"

_**That's right my butt**_

"Ewww…"

_**My butt**_

"EWWWW!!!"

_**MY BUTT!!!**_

"It's almost done for… Hold on, Max!!"

"I think I'm gonna puke… This is too ridiculous!"

* * *

Assume Drugs! Done.

Piss on the hydrant! Done.

"EHI!!! That was insensitive!"

Ignore Sam's lame complains! Done.

Kill president Kennedy! Done.

Boss stage: Hug the overly cute kitten.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

"… Just do it, Max. We'll deal with your mental trauma later."

Done.

Success!

* * *

_**Oh you cursed dog and rabbity thing, look what you've done, I'm flushing, I'm flushing. Oh what a world what a world. Who'd thought some little puny characters like you could destroy my beautiful claginess. Oh I'm going awwww noooooo arrghhhhhhhhhhh!!!**_

"Now, that's what I call… Bowel movement!!"

"I hate you when you do these things, Sam."

* * *

Once the Great Mighty Menace has been dealt with, the two freelance drivers finally reached the airport… A mysterious individual was awaiting for them, surrounded by some magical fairy powder and with a gorilla beside him… A real furry Gorilla with a… Tie.

"How do we recognize that Miyamoto guy, Sam?" The dog just rolled his eyes at his buddy's ignorance.

"He shall recognize us…" Stated Sam in a creepy, deep tone. Max gave him a odd look, odder than usual. "Oh for the love… He's right there, Max!" The distressed McGruff sibling yelled.

The almighty figure told something to his primate bodyguard, which left the zone immediately after receiving a kidnapped princess as a reward for his duty. The Asian looking entity then slowly walked over our heroes' Desoto… A trio of red turtle shells floating around his body began targeting a few cars, in the process. Miyamoto Sama stopped right in front of the vehicle, his face showed a small amount of disdain that managed to worry Sam… The last thing he wanted was to be turned into a Toad and put inside the wrong castle. With just a single movement of his hair, the Nintendo God ordered his fairies to transform the Desoto into a more appropriate vehicle for his own greatness… A mushroom spaceship!

"Aargh! What did that cucco do to our car!?"

"Be patient, Max… We don't want to irate a person that could easily exile us into the Twilight Realm for the rest of our life, do we?" Max had to settle down.

Miyamoto entered the "improved vessel of his magnificence" without saying anything. Sam and Max gave him a bewildered and God fearful look, before eventually igniting the engine and… Going to space at light speed!?

"I hate Mondays." A very scornful Max stated while their former car bounced relentlessly from a small planet to another, again and again and again…

The last Metroid is in captivity… The galaxy is at peace.

"OH, SHUT UP!!!"

Sorry, Max.


	3. Star Max and the Corneria Street Fighter

**3.**

**Star Max and the Corneria Street Fighters.**

**(based from the hair-raising, suicide inducing novel: "Sam & Max kicks butt in outer space!")**

* * *

After miraculously avoiding the rather unappealing fate of being devoured by a giant new-born alien carnivore plant, our two Chosen heroes by the Goddesses of reckoning randomness finally managed to sigh in relief and relax in the surprisingly comfortable spore-made softness of their newly acquired mushroom spaceship.

"Max? Are you trying to eat our ship again?" The unmistakable inquiring tone of the freshly labeled captain Sam Aran (as his soul eating irremovable nametag stated) asked to his dangerously gluttonous little buddy.

"Mmmhno…" The oversized headed lagomorph thingamajig by the name of Max Payne (as his soul eating nametag stated right before painfully dying for starvation) answered back while almost choking himself with a piece of the spaceship. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Young rabbity things will be young rabbity things." He said to himself.

"Ehi Sam, why don't we see what our supposedly godlike passenger is doing, for no particular reason?" Max advanced.

"Yes… Distracting our attention from driving is one sure way to ruin any virtual impeccable space travel!" Sam enthusiastically replied. Then the both of them, openly ignoring the subtle sarcasm of the latest sentence, and the ever so overrated common sense, turned their heads to take a satisfying look at the Asian divinity of jumping midgets that happened to be their passenger…

"Ehi Sam, what do you think is wrong with this picture?"

"Mmmh… Aside from the fact that our prized passenger aka unique object of our entire mission seems to be missing and the rather worrying giant hole in the back of our vehicle that threatens to suck us into a very disdainful death by floating in outer space frozen like the proverbial clichéd caveman… Nothing at all!"

"Phew… I was worried for a minute." And with that said, Max launched himself towards the hole in the fabric, successfully blocking it with the convenient cartoon-like non-proportioned-ness of his skull.

"Good job Max! I knew that oversized illegal weapon we usually referred to as 'your head', would have been a perfect cork for potentially lethal space vacuuming holes such as this one!" Sam proudly stated, raising his arm over his head in the typical "Eureka" manner.

"It's a good thing that my fragile grey matter is protected by that huge piece of metal planted in my skull, otherwise it would have probably spilled out from my nose and fluffy bunny ears in a scornful gory fashion!" Max said through the hole his head was so efficiently blocking.

"And it's a good improvised antenna for capturing any nearby satellite signals, too!" Said Sam while watching a wrestling match on TV and eating popcorn. "None the less, we've got to somehow rescue Mr. Miyamoto, Max" He muttered, reassuming his questionable professionalism. "A few millions of barbarian hardcore gamers would very well sacrifice our lives to the Hyrulian Goddesses if we don't bring him back to earth in one piece… Or at least, in presentable pieces."

"Will this rescue mission involve uncalled for Sci-fi references in spite of any form of copyright decency?"

"Probably…"

"WHO'S YOUR DADDY, LUKE!!?" Max yelled in eager enthusiasm… The one that usually precedes a catastrophe beyond human recognition.

"You crack me up, little overused movie sentences' twisting buddy!" And with that said, Sam ignited the lightspeed engine and the mushroom spaceship disappeared within the stellar infinity of space, while the "Star Wars" theme was relentlessly playing in the background.

"Wow… I did not see that coming." Said Max in evident annoyance, while his seemingly indestructible head did not suffer the rather overrated effects of the warping experience.

Max's head… The last frontier.

"Ehi, I found a moon rock in my nose!" Indeed.

* * *

It didn't take too long for the two copyright breakers (for which I have no responsibility whatsoever) to reach their randomly chosen destination with just 4 planets mesmerized in the process and one induced Super Nova...

"Well… I guess that's it for the Orion constellation, eh little buddy?"

"Awww… I'm sure nobody is gonna notice that giant burning star destroying everything in its path." Max confidently assumed while applying some sun lotion on his 3rd degree burnt body.

"For being our first reckless lightspeed travel, it went down pretty well."

"You mean… Our first lightspeed travel IN space!"

"Precisely."

Suddenly, Sam's attention was lured by a peculiar street sign placed on a floating piece of meteor right in front of them.

"What's written on it, Sam?" And thus, Sam began to read.

"Attention, fellow reckless spaceship travelers and probable copyright breakers, you are now entering Corneria Street, the most favorite enemy filled space highway for the occasional X-wing-like drivers with a taste for cheap game references, predictably fitting musical choices and, naturally, wanton destruction in the typical Sci-fi style! Please, take a hold of your Form Baton before entering this area…" After reading the advice all in one breath, Sam motioned his already pissed-off mini buddy to get a hold of his Form Baton (which is a Wii remote, in case you've forgotten), only to notice there was something else written on the advice in smaller characters: "P.S. If you are close enough to read this, then you should probably slow down." Sam read right before crashing the Mushroom Desoto on it at full speed.

"SAM, DO THE BARREL ROLL!!!" Yelled Max in panic.

"It's a little too late for that, Max… But thanks anyway." Sam scornfully said.

"Anytime, Sam!" The lagomorph happily replied, once again tragically ignoring the record breaking amount of sarcasm in his older friend's tone.

As soon as they grabbed their respective Batons, a rather unpleasant cluster of alien battle ships approached them with evident bellicose intent. Out of nowhere, a familiar piece of paper scrolled itself in front of the freelance starship fighters, revealing a whole new position for the Form Baton to assume.

_**The DBZ scouter… Place the Form Baton on your right or left ear like the aforementioned most accursed Japanese device of utter overusing-ness. The successful appliance of this position depends on three simple things: determination, ears and the awesome ability to ignore corny references.**_

"How the hell am I supposed to place this thing on my ear, Sam!?"

"Here… Let me." And Sam glued the Baton on Max's oversized skull with some convenient adhesive tape. "There you go, little buddy, now you're ready for the greatest corny adventure of your life!"

"I hate you so much, right now…"

As the space army grew dangerously closer and the predictable musical choice began to play, the newest (and despised-est) series of micro games to boot, started its painful course of utter evilness:

* * *

Bang your head! Done.

Bang your head twice! Done.

Bang your head thrice! Done.

Bang your freakin' head in crazy heavy metal fashion, dude! Done.

Bandage your bleeding head after crashing it on the steering wheel! Painfully done.

"… You know, the rockstar's auto-destructive kind of life style isn't exactly how I imagined it to be." Complained Max, while adjusting his metallic cranium.

Spit random commands to your spaceship.

"Errr… Fly? Turn? Shoot? Don't get hit by the enemy?"

"It's not working, Sam!"

"Damn all these useless peripherals!"

Failed. You lost a life.

"That sucks…"

"Don't worry, little buddy… We still have three lives left.

"Woo-hoo…"

State this angry Japanese guy's power level!

"IT'S OVER…. Errrrr, 2500? 5000? 150000000? DRAT! It's in times like that I wish I wasn't analphabet…"

"Don't worry Max… As far as I'm concerned, you are in possession of all the necessary attributes to become U.S. president."

"I already am U.S. president, Sam!"

"See? What did I tell you?"

Failed. You lost a life.

"Okay, I'll do the next… Stay back Max and watch a professional Baton holder at work!"

Save the princess and kill the monster! Failed. You lost a life.

"I was pretty sure the princess was the monster!"

"It's a common mistake, Sam."

Boss Stage!

Defeat the shambling incorporate presence that threatens the entire universe's life!

"Is it just me or that supposed shambling incorporate presence resembles a stereotypical Sumo wrestler?"

"That would explain why the entire galaxy suddenly turned into a crowd filled downtown alley… And the obnoxious boy band-like music, too. Anyway, could you please end this thing, little buddy?"

"HADOKEN!!!"

Destroyed!

* * *

"We did it again, little buddy! We managed to once again overcome all the absurd obstacles put in front of us by… THE VIDEOGAME INDUSTRY!!!"

RPG badass music time, GO!

_**Estuans interius**_

_**Ira vehementi**_

_**Estuans interius**_

_**Ira vehementi**_

"Max! What did I tell you about old repetitive jokes?"

"But… It wasn't me this time, Sam!" The current master of the secret martial arts' technique of ultimate pwning-ness, complained.

"Then who…" Before Sam could actually complete his sentence, the aforementioned overused theme grew louder as a certain giant burning star was slowly devouring the entire galaxy in its ever lasting flames of impending doom. "Oooooh… Right. Well, you know what to do, little buddy." Sam calmly stated as he began opening a fine bottle of sun cream.

"ETERNAL TANNING, HERE I COME!!!" Max joyously cried as he put a couple of sunglasses on his eyes and just relaxed.

* * *

Meanwhile, in some remote part of the universe yet to be discovered and make fun of… A certain Asian Godlike entity was creating Life at his own image and ideals…

"I'm sorry but your credibility is in another galaxy!"

Then he got pissed and destroyed it.

Too bad!

Game over.


End file.
